crumbling atlas

when i finally emerge from a winter-long sleep, i usually find it very difficult to leave the house "just because" the weather is nice--there must be a destination containing some element that is "useful" or "relevant" or conducive to "productivity." so i make extensive plans (which i rarely adhere to, except maybe a very small fraction of it). the other day, i decided to look up the public art installations along the high line at chelsea, and used it as an excuse to enjoy the sun. of course, i didn't bring with me the exact locations of anything, nor did i remember whose art was there. nevertheless, i passed by a few that i didn't find interesting enough to stop me in my tracks. then, there it was: el anatsui's broken bridge ii, 2012.
it probably helped that it was large. spanning 37 by 157 feet, it is supposedly the largest piece made by the artist. anatsui is a nigeria-based artist, born in ghana in 1944. he is known for making large-scale work with recycled materials. the work in question is made of mirrors and tin that cover maybe the entire top half of the building on which it has been installed.

from afar, the work resembles a blown-up section of a map. one can discern three groupings of mirrored surfaces in the midst of densely packed sheets of rusted tin. the sleek mirror reflects the clear blue sky, while the uneven surface of perforated tin evokes a rough terrain. the young trees lining the path make it difficult to get a clear view of the entire work, but through the spring green and blossoming pink, a peak here and there provides a closer look. hiding behind the colorful barricade hovers the massive atlas, holding steadfast to the top of the building, its pieces crumbling away toward the bottom.
the sheets are surprisingly thin, in contrast to the heaviness that their deep, earthy brown color conveys. the strips criss-crossing the two canals in the center and right sway with the riverside wind at times. yet the sheets exude a sense of mortal obstinacy: some parts wrinkle like old leather or aging skin, some are raised like stubborn scabs. the rows of rectangular sheets waver between an unsettling close-up of elephant hide to red brick tiles of a roof, lining the top of a house some place warm, perhaps.

on the other hand, the panels of mirror (obviously) appear strikingly sleek and industrial, not unlike the facades of other newly erected buildings in the neighborhood. yet, not entirely--it avoids the monotony of a clear-cut factory look through its slightly uneven surface. the various (and very faint) dips and rises give the impression of a living body of water, an occasional chelsea breeze rippling across it. the mirrors coexist with the surrounding skin-earth--at times contesting it in vehement contrast, at others in harmony like a placid lake cradled by its surrounding landscape.

on a clear day, the mirrored panels--especially those on the far left, unobstructed by bending strips of tin--provide an oasis in a bustling city, in the busy traffic of the springtime high line. but the waters will reflect a gray sky on an overcast day. and during the night, they, with the cracking rust, be swallowed up by the indiscriminately indifferent darkness. here, human products--hand-made and industrial--bend to the natural cycles of time. how long will they last? probably, as long as our pride allows them.

installation on view until summer 2013
chelsea high line (along 10th ave), between 21st and 22nd streets